On this rainy Oregon day I baked a loaf of lemon bread, thought about painting, organized stuff, drank a lot of coffee, and revisited Raymond Carver.
April is National Poetry month.
I looked into the room a moment ago, and this is what I saw – my chair in its place by the window, the book turned facedown on the table. and on the sill, the cigarette left burning in its ashtray. Malingerer! My uncle yelled at me so long ago. He was right. I’ve set aside time today, same as every day, for doing nothing at all.